


maybe this time

by anthropologicalhands



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU post S2 midseries finale in a way, Awkward Conversations, F/M, Gen, Unresolved Sexual Tension, there should be more adjusted!Jefferson/Emma interactions is what I mean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-16 23:32:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1365778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthropologicalhands/pseuds/anthropologicalhands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jefferson is on his way to a happy ending. An apology to Emma Swan might help speed it along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	maybe this time

**Author's Note:**

> This scene takes place after the season 2 mid-finale, mostly because after that point my grasp of the show's chronology grows much shakier.

After the curse is broken, there are still a few problems to sort out.

Jefferson does not live in the town proper, so the really _big_ problems, such as the royal family getting sucked into the Enchanted Forest or Red going berserk, do not affect him particularly.

Instead, he has Grace. 

His dear Grace, who remembers him and forgives him for not coming home to her, even before he has had a chance to tell her why.

Unfortunately, their happy ending is not so simple as living together in his beautiful house. When she recovered her memories of being Grace, she still feels like Paige half the time. And Paige has parents. Parents who are alive and well and took good care of her.

It isn’t that the family is unwilling to acknowledge him—they took care of Grace back in the Enchanted Forest, and are more than happy to see them reunited.

It’s just—

The memories are real, as are the feelings. The family cannot dissolve just because they know the truth of their relationship. Selfish as he is, Jefferson cannot bring himself to tear Grace completely away from them.

For now, they share Grace. She still lives in that other house, though she spends her days after school with him, sometimes in Granny’s, sometimes just sitting in the park.

It nearly kills him that they are not wholly together yet. But she has returned to him, and they are happy together, and in some ways that was all he really wanted.

Like the first time she entered his life, Jefferson finds his world turned around. He might have been a recluse in this life, but Grace has a life in the town. She has friends, favorite places to get ice cream. A toy store she loves to visit, though she never wants anything, even though he has enough money to get her whatever she wants.

“It’s more fun to look,” she says. “I don’t _need_ them, Papa.”

He relents, but only because he remembers too well what happened the last time he didn’t listen. Gradually, he sees more of the townsfolk, even starts to speak with them. Still, with only Prince Charming in charge and all of the conflicts that brings up, Jefferson tries to avoid the heart of the town. He has never been one for mobs—the Queen of Hearts only exacerbated this particular dislike.

But then Snow White and Emma spring out of a well and Storybrooke is no longer so dangerously topsy-turvy.

It is Grace who tells him, of course.

“Henry’s mom came back,” she says, sitting in the kitchen, watching him make their lunches. “And the princess, too.”

“Snow White is a queen,” corrects Jefferson, not looking up from the cutting board. He likes tomatoes whole or sliced, but not when they are in the process of being sliced. Too often they squelch and look suspiciously gory.

Grace’s nose wrinkles. “I thought that was Madame Mayor?”

Grace still doesn’t know Regina’s real name. She doesn’t know that Regina was once innocent, in her own way. Grace still doesn’t know that he helped her fall.

“Well, one is the queen we want and the other is the one who cursed us all. Why did you bring it up?” he asks instead.

Grace shrugs. “Everyone talks about it at school. Gwen says it was _very_ romantic, when Snow White and Prince Charming saw each other again.”

“I’m sure it was,” says Jefferson, not pointing out that twenty-eight years separated from your true love would make anything seem romantic. “Pass me some mushrooms, you little rabbit.”

Still, even as he plays with Grace and learns how to be a father again—an itch develops at the back of his mind. One that is only tangentially related to the royal couple.

Emma.

She’s the one who broke the curse. Her magic funneled through True Love’s Kiss and made Storybrooke remember. Made it possible for him to sit here with Grace now.

He owes her an apology. 

A _colossal_ apology.

He could seek her out— it wouldn’t be hard, especially now that everyone knows she is the Savior—but he is not entirely sure how well she would take it.

“You should bring Henry over,” he says instead. “I owe the sheriff a thank you.” In his mind, he thinks the children could be buffers—Henry as clear-eyed a boy as Jefferson has ever seen, and Grace so sweet she could disarm Regina if he had ever dared let them within three feet of each other. They might allow him a chance to be honest with Emma, and to be heard.

Grace looks delighted.

“We can have a tea party!”

“That might not be so wise,” says Jefferson.

\--

Of course, when he actually does run into Emma, neither Henry or Grace are present.

He visits Granny’s most days now—still doesn’t talk much with the other patrons, but he likes to watch them, hear them compare sets of memories—just basks in the fact that he is no longer alone in this doublemindedness.

He has grown comfortable there, to the point where he can sit with his back to the door, contemplating his coffee (he’s too particular about his tea to enjoy it outside the house). 

He doesn’t see her walk in, but something about the door as it swings open, and the quality of the footsteps, compels him to look around.

She is alone as well and immediately catches his eye. She freezes, minutely, but keeps walking forward, doesn’t stop until she is right behind him. His neck is tensed from the strain of having to twist upwards, to keep eye contact.

They stare at each other.

He speaks first. It is only polite. “I owe you an apology.” 

Emma raises her eyebrows at him. “That’s putting it mildly.”

Emma, not surprisingly, is unimpressed. She’s not about to break and run away—her stance is not quite right for it. Instead, she scowls mightily, plants her feet, crosses her arms over her chest.

“You have a lot to apologize for,” she says. “And not just to me, either.”

“For the record, Sheriff, I maintain that I took the precautions necessary to save Snow White’s life.” He grimaces. “Though I suppose that it could have been accomplished in a less distasteful fashion.”

“Yeah.” Her fingers flex over the leather of her sleeves. “The duct tape and the gun were unnecessary, you know. If you really wanted to save her life.”

“I have no other explanation for what I did. I was mad,” he says, because there is no shame in admitting it these days. Everyone went a little mad with the revelation of their old lives, to the point that he is considered one of the more stable personalities in Storybrooke. He’s had twenty-eight years of two lives crammed into his head and too few happy memories to cling to as anchors—it is good to know he’s not alone anymore. 

“I was mad, and desperate, and full of more hope than I’d held in _years_ ,” Jefferson gives a helpless shrug, spreading out his hands. “What else can I say? I am indebted towards you in ways beyond what I could ever repay. Both you and your boy.”

The lines in Emma’s face soften, though there is still no smile for him. Jefferson pushes out the open chair at his table with his foot. “You might as well sit down, Emma.”

She does, though she doesn’t immediately scoot into the table, unwilling to share his personal sphere just yet.

“Did you find your daughter?” she asks, leaning back and refolding her arms, though now it looks more business-like than protective.

“I have. Thank you for asking.”

“Does she remember?”

He can’t help but smile. “She does.”

Emma, reflexively, smiles back. She quickly stops, however, and schools her face into something more neutral. “I’m glad to hear it. At least you’re not alone in that house anymore.”

“Well, she doesn’t live with me. Yet.” He shifts in his seat. “The other family—they were our neighbors, back home—are still her parents in important ways. We have an arrangement.”

“Sorry,” Emma says, and sounds like she means it. 

“How’s Henry?” he asks. “I haven’t spoken to him since before your return.”

“Good,” say Emma in clipped tones. “He spent the weekend with Regina. I’m picking him up after school. We have an arrangement, too.”

“Ah,” says Jefferson. He could say, so our situations are not so different after all, except that Regina is a touchy subject for _anyone_ , let alone the Savior and her child that Regina raised, and he is not touching that situation with a ten foot pole. “Any plans for today?”

Emma does smile, now, though it is still a little tense. “Only homework. I think he got too used to having adventures while I was away. Charming isn’t really one for discipline.”

“Good luck with that,” says Jefferson, with utmost solemnity. That does startle a laugh out of her, and he feels an odd flush of pleasure which warms him thoroughly. He tugs a little at his knotted scarf to loosen it.

Red comes by and asks for Emma’s order. She asks for cherry pie and refuses the offer of a drink. She doesn’t seem like she’s about to get up and move to another table and so Jefferson accepts, with some surprised pleasure, that he has company.

“You can have some of my coffee, if you would like some,” he offers. “I can ask for another cup.”

“I don’t forget _that_ easily.” she says pointedly. “We are _nowhere_ near the point where we can have a drink together.” 

Jefferson winces. He supposes he deserves that. “Fair enough. Though why you choose to stay in my company despite these misgivings in the first place is another story, I would presume.”

In truth, he’s rather pleased. He likes Emma.

Likes her strength and directness and protective nature. 

He likes the little glimpses of warmth—affection for her son and family. 

The sweetness she had shown him at that first meeting before his actions sent everything south and—

She is a special person, even if she’s not the only one with magic anymore. He would like to know her better. They had shared hearts, for one brief moment, and it was real, regardless of what happened after.

“You could say that.” She looks down at her hands, folded on the table. “Everyone seems to be getting things back, these days.”

“Indeed, even things we never expected,” says Jefferson. “Even you.”

Emma gives a tight smile. “Even me. Though it’s a little weird, finding out your best friend really is your mother.”

There is nothing he can say to that.

The pie comes, as does a fresh pot of coffee. Jefferson pours while Emma scalpels out a bite with the edge of her spoon.

“I’m glad I found you, actually,” she says. “I kind of wanted to talk about the hat.”

Ah, yes. The hat that sent her into the Enchanted Forest.

“I’m afraid I might not be able to tell you what you want to know,” he warns. “I knew how to use the hat—that one hat. But I never had magic of my own. It was why I could not retrieve you when your father approached me.”

Emma gives him a curious look. “So when you gave me that hat at your house—”

“You did use magic,” he confirms, with a crooked smile.

“Huh,” Emma stares down at her pie. “So I’ve learned. It never seems to work when I want it, though.”

“You’ll get a handle of it. Your magic did stop me from breaking my neck after our last encounter, even if I did just end up back inside the house.”

“So that’s where you ran off to.” Emma’s not smiling, but only barely. Jefferson grins in response—he cannot quite help it.

“You say that like I had a plan. The actual landing was much more ungraceful.”

“I actually know what you mean.” Now she is smiling, and he’s intrigued, despite himself  
.  
“How was it?” he asks. “Your first visit home?”

“Not sure I would call it home. It’s a long story. A long, _strange_ story.”

“Grace won’t be out of school until three. I’ll be here until then.”

Emma looks up at the clock. “It’s only lunchtime.”

Jefferson ducks his head. It is a little pathetic, he knows, to have nothing to do with his day. But he really doesn’t know what he would do otherwise. Regina made him a wealthy man and he would be bored silly by most of the jobs in town. And their collection of mushrooms is, frankly, anemic compared to the variety he is accustomed to.

“I try not to be in the house alone since the curse was broken,” says Jefferson. “Not until Grace has done what she wants with it. Too empty.”

Emma nods. Then, her lips make an ironic little twist. “I actually have the opposite situation. Snow’s place is a little crowded. Her and Charming have a lot of…catching up to do. I’ve been trying to stay out of their way.”

“Mhm.” Jefferson’s definitely not touching that with a _twenty_ foot pole. “Well, should you and Henry ever need…to get away from Snow White and Prince Charming’s grand romance, you are welcome to visit. I know Grace would love to have Henry over to play.”

Emma pauses in her half-eaten pie, eyes narrowed. “Moving a bit fast here, aren’t you mister?”

“I never meant you any harm and I am trying to prove it. But if you feel we’re not there yet, we’re not there yet. Consider it a standing invitation.”

The tension in Emma’s shoulders eases. She puts down her spoon and shakes off her jacket, draping it over the back of the chair. She pulls her chair in close, rests her elbows on the table. 

“I can manage that,” she says. “Just…no funny business with the drinks, all right?”

“I will let Grace take care of the preparations,” says Jefferson, straight-faced. “Though I must warn you, she likes to experiment.”

Emma smiles back. A real, full smile this time. One she does not try to stifle or school back. It is lovely.

“You’re not too bad when you make sense,” she says. 

Jefferson smiles in return, and leans towards her.

“I do my best. Now, didn’t you have a story to tell me?”

She doesn’t pull away.

**Author's Note:**

> I loved Jefferson a lot and I’m very disappointed he and Emma didn’t get more scenes together, because they have lovely chemistry and an interesting dynamic. There isn't much actual shippiness in this fic, but they were not at that point yet here.


End file.
